


Do Only As I Say

by the-garbage-chute (ekp)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Attempted BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Don't Question Me On This, Dubious Consent, First Time, Kylo Ren Has No Refractory Period, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Power bottom!Hux, Prompt Fill, Some Kind of Modern AU, Tittyfucking, Virgin!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekp/pseuds/the-garbage-chute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b><a href="http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/146329761891/power-bottom-hux-coaching-virgin-sub-ren-step-by">Prompt</a> for the <a href="http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/">Kylux Hard Kinks exchange:</a></b>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Power bottom Hux coaching virgin sub Ren step by step while they fuck. Hux has a belt around Ren's neck choking him and as he feels himself getting close Hux stops riding him almost all together making him beg, prolonging his orgasm.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Only As I Say

**Author's Note:**

> By coincidence, I started writing dom/power bottom Hux coaching Kylo through his first time (feat. orgasm control) only a few hours before someone submitted the same prompt to KHK. Anon, we apparently share a telepathic connection for sin.
> 
> I've already given [ladycamillus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCamillus), [cracktheglasses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cormallen/pseuds/cracktheglasses), and [vivian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian) endless thanks for their help and encouragement with this, but it will never be enough. Thank you guys **so much.**
> 
> This is my first fic for fandom, and actually the first written work I've ever shared, so please bear with me...

There’s been silence for a while. Hux is well-settled, watching his guest over the rim of his amber-clear digestif. The glass’ languid contents, the comfort of his deep leather chair, the dark glow of the city below—all elements familiar and soothing enough to counter the palpable unease emanating from the young man on the other side of the room.

‘Why did you agree to come home with me?’ Hux enquires.

The younger man glances up as if startled. He’d been pretending to survey the pristinely pressed labels on the liquor bottles, the bindings of the shelved books, and the Tudor-arch windows looking out on the night. The pretense was quite poor. He’s so large, looks so young and out of place. Tight clothes, tousled hair, and stocking feet, his shoes left at the door.

‘I– um,’ he stumbles over the words. It takes a moment. ‘I’m not very good at this. I know that.’

Hux waits.

‘I'm…’ The young man huffs a laugh. ‘It’s like I’m still in kindergarten, you know? Throwing rocks at kids I like.’ He gestures, floundering, and dares to look over to gauge Hux’s reaction. The confession stops there, as if those three disjointed and ineffectual sentences comprise a sufficient response. Hux exhales.

There had, admittedly, been somewhat easier conversation earlier in the evening, when they were side by side at the bar, and again in the car. They face each other now, and Hux’s blood stirs. They’re both flushed with alcohol. Each small movement has, somehow, become blatantly sexual—the shift of tendons in Ren’s wrist as he grips his glass, the stretch of fabric over Hux’s crossed legs. 

But they wait. Hux actually enjoys these lulls, so heavy and heady. He’s been waiting a long time for this one.

The two men had crossed paths earlier that night at the same bar. An hour in, one long hour of pointedly avoided glances, Hux had come over, leant in close to be heard over the music, and offered to buy Ren a drink. 

‘That’s his boss,’ Ren’s friends whispered as he accompanied Hux to the polished, low-lit bar—but they weren’t quite right. Hux is a partner at the firm where Ren very recently transitioned from intern to associate, though he heads a separate division. He's not much older, and not his boss precisely, but still, undoubtedly, Ren’s superior.

Ren grimaces now, downs his whiskey. Hux watches his long throat move in a sculpted line, follows the soft dip in the exposed skin beneath his jaw. He takes a last mouthful of his own drink before he stands.

Ren's pupils visibly expand as Hux draws close. Though Ren attempts to recline against the counter in a mimicry of casual indifference, his knuckles are white where they grip the bartop. His arms and chest are tense under his shirt. It would almost be better if he gave over to open apprehension, Hux reflects, rather than muddling through this embarrassing charade of nonchalance. _Almost, but not quite._

'I'll make this easier for you,' says Hux quietly, scanning Ren’s stark features. 'Do you find me attractive?'

'Yeah,' Ren breathes almost before Hux can finish the sentence. Hux hums, low, and steps forward, right leg between both of Ren’s, left leg hemming in his thigh. He feels the soft stutter of Ren’s breath on his cheek as the ridges of their hipbones brush. It’s so simple.

'And do you want to fuck me?'

Ren nods as if he’s only been waiting all this time, all these months of awkward professional exchanges and shared space, to hear those words offered to him. His tongue wets his lips, and he releases his bruising grip on the marble to press fully against Hux. Hux allows the unsure and breathless kiss for a moment before he places one hand flat on Ren's abdomen, fingertips dipping into the shallow beneath his sternum, and separates their bodies gently.

‘Next time, you’ll ask before doing that,’ he says. ‘If you want this, you’ll do only as I say. Do you understand?’

Hux had known before Ren’s gaze lifted from his lips, before he had risen from the chair to approach, before he had asked Ren home with him, what the word that spilled thoughtlessly from Ren’s lips would be.

\----------

The younger man watches from the bedroom doorway as Hux takes a bottle of lubricant from the bedside drawer and removes his clothes. He lays them neatly over the back of a chair, and the practised, easy movements are entrancing—the thumbing open of the catch on his watch, his hands shifting deftly down six waistcoat buttons, shoulders flexing back to let it drop; he twists gilt cufflinks from his wrists and slips the belt from its loops; his fingertips move in cadence down the row of shirt buttons, flick open the clasp of his trousers, and pull the fitted undershirt and underwear over long clean limbs. From Ren’s captivated expression, it’s incredible to think that Hux does this every day, every night, without an audience to admire its deftness and beauty.

‘Are you going to do it dressed?’ Hux asks Ren from the bed, one eyebrow lifted. Ren huffs a laugh and steps into the room, stripping down messily. Black polyester and leather are puddled on the seat of the same chair.

Hux stills for a barely-noticeable moment when Ren tugs down his briefs, but the other man catches him at it from under long-lashed eyes and grins uneasily. He wraps his hand around his cock and gives it a few quick strokes, looking over for Hux's reaction, uncertain even of this. After a moment of silence Hux asks clearly, neutrally: ‘Did I tell you to do that?’

Ren shakes his head but continues, the muscles in his arm and chest bunching a little with each movement.

Hux hums interestedly and gets off the bed. He crosses to the chair holding his clothes and instructs Ren to lay down. When he turns around again, Ren is dutifully reclining in the spot Hux just vacated. 

Hux approaches, says ‘Lift your head,' before threading his belt around Ren's pale neck. Though there isn’t a notch for the prong to secure at this length, Hux tightens the band until there’s allowance for a finger to slip between leather and skin. The strap’s close against Ren's large Adam's apple, and Ren shifts his dark head with obvious discomfort.

Admittedly, it’s quite a nice picture. Hux brushes Ren’s full lower lip with a finger and, smiling, bends to kiss him, opening his mouth to lead, deepening when Ren follows. He’s indulgent when Ren arches up into it, sloppy and warm. The younger man is so earnest, so inept and inelegant. Hux holds Ren’s long jaw in one hand, guiding him, teaching him to go slow, to feel it deep in his stomach.

When at last Ren is panting into Hux’s mouth, straining with the pressure of the belt, Hux pulls away and straddles Ren’s thighs, his knees dipping into the soft mattress on either side of the muscular stomach. Strands of precome pull away from Ren’s abdomen as his heavy cock jumps—a reflexive reaction to Hux’s movement.

The bottle upended, lubricant spreads in a slow drip over the first two fingers of Hux’s right hand. He reaches back between Ren’s legs to press inside himself and smirks admonishingly down at Ren, who’s half-choking himself against the belt to drop his chin and watch.

'Look at you,’ Hux says, and adds another finger. Ren’s full cock bobs again as he shifts his hips.

‘Reach back and take hold of the headboard,’ Hux instructs after a few moments. He lifts himself up, poised above Ren's cock, and waits for the other man to obey. Tremulous hands skitter across polished wooden rungs before Ren finds his grip; his body is arched, strung out, big pectorals heaving with each anticipatory breath, his abdomen already shining with the first layer of sweat.

 _Poor boy_ , Hux thinks. His cock jumps at the thought of pronouncing those words aloud—but not yet. He’ll wait until Ren’s sobbing, begging, everything relinquished to Hux’s whim, incapable of anything except surrender. 

He withdraws his fingers and slicks the head of Ren’s cock in two efficient strokes. Ren shudders up into it, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. It’s marvellous, the simplicity of it, and the idea of what he might do to someone this raw. 

As Hux holds Ren steady and lowers himself down, he says, ‘You’ll keep your hands in place, and–’

The words catch in his throat and are lost as his body allows the full head of Ren's cock inside before the sheer girth brings him to a temporary stop.

It takes a moment, but Ren laughs, throaty and proud, when he realizes what’s happened—so Hux pulls on the long end of the belt, tightening it around Ren’s neck. When Ren’s fingers leave the headboard, grabbing instinctively for the leather strap to relieve the pressure, Hux lifts entirely off his cock and snarls, 'Hands on the headboard.' Ren glares, struggles for two shaking, furious, desperate breaths, and then obeys.

'I will not tell you again,’ Hux says, flushing as the big hands twist powerfully in their place. 

Sweat glistens on the divot of Ren's throat as Hux lowers himself, slowly, letting his eyes fall closed, unable to keep his mouth from opening with the pressure, the resculpting of internal organs, the pain. Ren’s moan is deep, his lungs and abdomen vibrating with the force of it. The headboard creaks.

When he’s fully seated, Hux finally manages to whisper, 'You will not come until I instruct you to do so.’ His fingertips shake where they’re placed on the muscled plane of Ren's stomach. It’s not like him—a physical slip in control like this.

Hux wonders if Ren can hear or comprehend the words he’s just spoken. The younger man is staring at the ceiling, clearly trying to reign himself in, even just at the start. 

It’s a long way up, and a long way down, and Ren moans thickly with each move. The moans turn into curses when Hux rolls his hips, and then fall away entirely as Hux leans forward, braces his hands on either side of Ren’s chest, and begins to fuck in earnest.

It doesn’t take long, only until Hux’s thighs and chest shine with light sweat from the sheer overwhelmingness of… _of all of this_ —when Ren grunts out, ‘Please, can I–’

‘No,’ Hux says, and presses the end of the belt down into the bed beneath his fist. He rounds his spine, leans down to suck at the meat of Ren’s chest, tasting the sweat and sweetness. Ren stutters, apparently unsure whether he needs to fuck up into Hux’s body or hold himself back; he trembles between the two.

‘Fuck,’ Ren inhales after another couple minutes, sounding as if he really won’t make it this time, ‘Hux–’

Hux lifts himself up and off, a quick wet pop. The headboard knocks hard against the wall when Ren releases it to chase after Hux’s hips, wanting to force him back down, so Hux yanks the belt too tight.

‘No,’ he hisses again. Ren’s slew of sputtered curses is ignored. The powerful chest flushes with surging blood. Dark hair sticks to Ren’s face with hot sweat. His big throat bobs, struggling for air. Hux waits, poised above the soaking, trembling, heaving man. 

But he’s asked for too much, and misjudged the power he’s been loaned. Ren sits up fast, almost knocking Hux from his lap. He digs at the leather binding his neck and tears the strap from Hux's hands, throws it away.

Hux’s vehement _'don’t you -!'_ is knocked from his lungs as he’s picked up. One of Ren’s arms braces behind his back, the other under his thigh, and he’s thrown chest-down on the mattress. Ren kneels behind him, tucks his hands into Hux’s hip joints to lift his ass and line himself up, then presses forcefully in with one long, downward roll of his hips. A gasp tears from Hux’s lungs against his will, and the sound of it is raw and unpractised.

Before he can gather his shocked fury into any sort of coherent response or react to the conflict of pleasure in his belly, Ren withdraws until the head of his cock stretches Hux’s hole and pushes all the way back in. Whatever response Hux is preparing evaporates. Ren holds his hips and fucks into him as hard as he wants and needs, and Hux is unable to do anything except drool, from mouth and cock, onto the duvet. He couldn’t have gotten up if he had wanted to, and the fact that he doesn’t want to isn’t something he’s capable of worrying about now.

Within several hard thrusts Ren comes, heaving with relief and leaning heavily into the man below him. The flood of warmth in Hux’s gut heats his entire body, from cramped curling toes to clutching fingers to blanked-out mind. They drop to the mattress together; Ren's hands slide up past Hux's head and hem him in. He buries his nose at the damp nape of Hux's neck.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbles after a moment. 'I couldn’t...'

Hux doesn’t respond. He can’t breathe. His nerves race with burning want, his unsatisfied dick straining into the mattress. 

Ren lifts off and withdraws. Messily, a few late strands of come paint Hux's hole and dribble down the seam of his perineum.

Hux finds his voice, rasping out from the sheets. 'Did you just spill some?' 

'Um. I–' 

'Put it back in,' Hux says. He’s already a mess, it doesn’t make sense, but Ren moves back over to obey. He gathers some of the thick fluid with a finger–

'No, Ren. With your cock.'

A stuttering breath, a hesitation. Then Hux can hear Ren wrapping his fingers around himself, directing the head to trace a line up the seam to Hux’s ass, trail clumsily around his hole to collect the cooling liquid, before he pushes back in.

Ren groans. It’s guttural, too far wrecked to give any charade of restraint. He falls forward to brace his hands on either side of Hux’s freckled, pale ribcage. Still mostly hard, he thrusts slowly in a few times. It’s so debauched. The sound is unspeakably filthy—the wet slip of used come and lube—and hearing this, Hux finally feels himself open to it fully, giving in to the loose, blunt pain of overuse. 

‘Are– you actually–’ he manages, breathless and impressed, when Ren’s gone on for a couple of minutes, but before he can finish the question Ren comes again, staggering with the force of it. Sweat smears over Hux’s back when Ren collapses on top of him. He pulls out immediately this time, as if it’s causing him pain. His big body is heavy and spent.

At last Hux loses himself, cursing softly into the sheets, practically tearing them apart in his hands. His need to finish is so great it’s physically uncomfortable rather than pleasurable, and it dims his conflicted fury at being manhandled and so blatantly disobeyed. He refuses to lay here and rut against the bed like a boy.

‘Up,’ he spits. ‘Get off.’ Ren obeys, slowly, rolling to the side, too fucked out for shame or apology. Hux rises to his knees and straddles him again, glances over the man beneath him with predatory desire. ‘Look at you,’ he sneers. Ren's eyes open, brows lift at the slurred hoarseness in Hux’s voice that hadn’t been there before. 

'Put your hands on your tits.'

Ren obeys, his head quirked to one side. He’s grinning breathlessly, stupidly up at Hux, eyes wrinkling at the corners. It feeds Hux’s irrational ferocity. He is so far gone from the man Ren has known up to this point, the man who matches the leather of his belt and shoes to the interior of his car, whose office could be measured with the precision of a bow compass. Hux slicks up his almost purpling cock with some of the come that’s dripped from his own ass to puddle on Ren's abdomen, pushes at Ren's big hands until his pectorals form a muscular dip of cleavage, and braces his legs on the bed before sliding his dick along the firm give of muscle. Ren laughs deep in his throat, rumbling, vibrating, and Hux’s head falls forward helplessly. _Fuck you_ , he wants to say, but can’t.

They watch together as Hux’s erection slips against the smooth muscle, held in place under his own flat palm. The head of his cock pushes obscenely in and out, in and out, the flared frenulum bumping against the underside of Hux’s knuckles. He can’t breathe. He can’t see. He can’t do anything except give in to the devouring need to keep doing this, rolling his hips, over and over and over.

Hux braces one hand against the headboard, leaning up and forward, and manages to get some of his come down Ren’s throat.

Mindlessly, as if heavily intoxicated, Hux finds his way back down to the bed as Ren coughs beside him. Hux lays flat on his stomach, not touching this… this man. This– his fucking _sales associate_. Hux is too hot, too sensitive, but Ren gathers him up anyways, of course, pressing his filthy chest and face to Hux’s slender back and curling around him. It’s too much contact, but Hux doesn’t have the energy to writhe away. He feels the warm liquid fullness of Ren diffusing inside him, and the deep musky smell of the man’s sweat pervades everything: the room, the bed, Hux’s own skin. Ren’s soft lips brush against his shoulder.

He could have Ren terminated from the firm, easily. Tomorrow, if he so desired, or sooner. The thought of spending every day in the company of a person who had just done what Ren did to him is distasteful, offensive, and impossible. 

But Hux closes his eyes and thinks about Ren pressed flush behind him—not as he is in that moment, but standing at the coffee counter, hips aligned to Hux’s ass, a big hand holding his waist, black hair falling over his cheekbone as Ren’s lips brush his neck. In the fantasy, voices pass by just outside the room, and Hux can feel Ren’s pulse quicken against his back... Hux thinks of Ren’s dark eyes following his every movement, leisurely, possessively, as Hux stands speaking at the head of a meeting, and with equal hunger Hux is just as incapable of turning away... Hux thinks of Ren, forcing him flat on the bed or his desk or the floor, and fucking him until he truly forgets what control had ever felt like.

Hux shifts his hips, feels Ren’s moan reverberate softly through them both as he pulls Hux even closer, starts to rouse again, and Hux considers the proud, thrilling suspicion that he may have just created a monster.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I'm [the-garbage-chute](http://the-garbage-chute.tumblr.com/)/[ceruleanandlime](http://ceruleanandlime.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
